Dear Phoebe
by KJaneway115
Summary: Kathryn writes a letter to her sister about life on Voyager and her relationship with Chakotay.  Set sometime between "Hope and Fear" and "Night"


_Author's Note: I wrote this in response to a conversation I've been having with CKLizzy about Kathryn's choice not to be in a relationship aboard _Voyager_. This is my attempt to try to explain some of her feelings and thoughts on the matter. This letter is written sometime between the events of "Hope and Fear" and "Night." Special thanks to CK for the inspiration :-)  
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**DEAR PHOEBE**

Dear Phoebe,

It's been a long time since I've written to you - I guess since Seven of Nine came aboard. Seven of Nine is our resident former Borg - Chakotay likes to call her my "personal reclamation project." Sometimes I wonder why I'm so obsessed with saving her. I think it's because I know that I'm the only one who can. Her individuality was taken from her - her identity, her free will, everything that made her human - and I think that is the cruelest thing that can ever be done to a person. I would rather die than have those things taken from me. I have to bring her back; I know I will.

But I didn't sit down to write to you about Seven. I sat down to write to you because I miss you. When we were first stranded out here, I promised you I would write every week. Well, I managed it for a while, anyway, but now it's been... what? a year since my last letter? I would say I'll try to be better about it, but that's a promise I don't know if I can keep. Even though I know we're inching closer and closer, home seems farther away every day. Every time it seems like we might get home a little faster, our hopes are dashed again. This time, it was an alien called Arturis, promising technology that turned out to be an elaborate ruse. The second I allow myself a glimmer of hope, everything goes to hell. Sometimes I think that just by wanting something desperately, I make it impossible. I can almost hear your voice telling me that's ridiculous, but you always had an easier way of looking at life than I did. You never set out to save the world; you never took the burdens of the universe on your shoulders. I can hear you telling me to just "let go" of all that, but I can't. It's part of who I am.

You know, _Voyager_ only received part of the data stream from Starfleet. If you and Mom sent a letter, it was lost. I never received it just as you'll probably never read this one. But that's all right. When I started writing to you almost five years ago, I knew you'd probably never see my words. In some strange way, it still gives me comfort to imagine you reading this, to imagine your responses to the things I say. I used to imagine the conversations we'd have if you were here, but I don't do that anymore. I can't allow myself to think that way.

I did receive a letter from Mark. Do you and Mom stay in touch with him? If you do, then you know that he's married. I was surprised how hard that was for me to hear. It's been a long time since I've thought about having a life with Mark, but I guess there was a part of me that assumed he'd always be there, waiting. Knowing that made things easier, somehow - the idea that no matter what, that one thing was certain and constant. After I got Mark's letter, I told Chakotay that it made me realize that I'd been using my engagement as a safety net to avoid becoming involved with someone else. Chakotay said we had plenty of time. I knew exactly what he meant.

Phoebe, I know what you would say. "Kathryn, you're human. You deserve happiness. You need a man in your life." You'd tell me that no matter how strong I think I am, I need someone to turn to, to share my burdens with. You'd tell me I need someone with whom I can be myself - all of myself, not just the part of myself that I share when I'm working. You'd tell me not to close myself off to my emotions. You'd tell me to take a risk, screw protocol, and jump off the cliff. "What the hell?" you'd say. "We only live once."

I won't lie to you. There are moments when I want nothing more than to feel his strong arms around me, when I want to let down my guard, when I want to let myself imagine the possibility of a life together, a relationship, a child. But I can't. You may never understand this, Phoebe, because you and I are different in this way. It doesn't matter that there's no official Starfleet regulation that prohibits me from being in a relationship. It's a luxury that, as Captain, I can't afford. I can hear your objections: "A relationship is not a luxury; it's an essential part of life." Not out here.

It's not really about the Starfleet rules and regulations. It's about me. It doesn't matter how I feel or what I want. I have a job to do and nothing is going to get in my way. I stranded these people 70,000 lightyears from their homes and their families, and I'll be damned if I don't get them home. You know me; I can't do anything partway, not if I'm really passionate about it. A relationship will always become too high a priority. It will always become a distraction. Mark... Well, things were easier with Mark. We were old friends who decided to share a life together. We loved each other very deeply - I still do love him - but it wasn't exactly a passionate romance. Remember Justin? Think about what it did to me when he died. I could have _lost_ my career if you hadn't finally forced me out of bed. I can't afford to be in something like that, especially not here. And no matter how much I tried to hold back, that's what it would be with Chakotay.

I can see you looking at me with that dubious expression of yours that says you're not convinced. I don't know if I can explain it to you. I don't know if I can convince you. I don't know if you can understand without having been through what I've been through. It's not that I don't think I _can_ be in a relationship again. It's that I don't want to. For five years, I've been alone out here. I won't say it hasn't been hard. I won't say there aren't times when my heart feels like it's breaking and I feel so alone that I sink to the floor on my knees, because standing seems like to great an effort. But this, I know I can take. I know I'm strong enough to get through it; I know I can always become stronger. I can take whatever the next disappointment is. There have been so many; what's one more? But it's taken me a long time to learn to expect nothing. I don't think I can go back to expecting... everything. And that's what a relationship would do to me. I'd start having hopes about the future. I'd start making plans. Making plans is impossible out here; tomorrow we could all be assimilated by the Borg. Any of us might find ourselves in an alien prison, or with strange technology implanted in our skulls, or taken hostage by a hostile force. This is the uncertainty I live with every day. I have learned to conquer my fear of what might be coming next, but only because I don't have any expectations about what it will be. The one luxury I truly can't allow myself is hope. I think I can take anything but that.

Chakotay always tells me I'm not alone, but he's wrong. In our deepest fears, in our darkest sadness, and in our greatest joys, we are all, fundamentally, alone.

Well, I should go, little sis. I have a stack of reports to read before I go to bed. I would say thanks for listening, except, you're not really there. I miss you, Phoebe, and I love you, whether I'm able to tell you or not.

Always,

Kathryn


End file.
